This morning of the small snow I count the blessings, the leak in the faucet which makes of the sink time, the drop of the water on water.

I don't live for poetry. I live far more than anybody else does.

When will government cease being a nuisance to everybody?

You can do anything, really. And that, l think, is one of the exciting possibilities of the present, l swear, is the possibility that the goddamn thing can be modaled throughout.

Forgive me if I sleep until I wake up.

This morning of the small snow I count the blessings, the leak in the faucet which makes of the sink time, the drop of the water on water.

O.K. I'm running out of appetite. Let this swirl- a bit like Crab Nebula- do for now.